


Oh Baby, Begging You to Save Me

by oppressa



Category: McMafia (2018)
Genre: Drinking, Dry Humping, F/M, Female boss - Freeform, Femdom, Grief, Office Sex, Seduction, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oppressa/pseuds/oppressa
Summary: Ilya hurts, after betraying Vadim. Irina sees it.





	Oh Baby, Begging You to Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> I got so involved with the characters in Russia with the last few episodes (though I would never root against Papa and Mama) and look I saw UST here okay, some hand-touching is all it takes. I guess there are spoilers for the ending if it hasn't finished airing where you are.

 

He takes a week's unpaid leave after being forced to give up Vadim. Not only to mourn his friend and god daughter, but also figure out how he's ever going to be able to live with himself. There are phone calls from the office and he shakes his head at Anna when she looks at him to pick up.

Finally, he answers, to hear Irina's bored voice sounding even more unimpressed than normal. "Fedorov. I’m done covering for you. Do I have to come to your house and drag you back to work?"

He hangs up on her, gives it another couple of days, but he comes at her behest, after really not being at all sure what to do with himself.

Most people just nod on their way past, don't look him in the eye. Irina's the only one who has no problem with that, it seems. She enters his office without knocking and closes the door behind her. For a second he thinks its Vadim, the only other person he ever let get away with that. He stands, ready to snap at her, then decides that might not be the best course of action, and ends up resting his hands on the desk, biting his lip.

She crosses her arms. "Good to see you." Sarcasm, surely.

"I expect you can have me moved to another department, if you find it awkward--"

She cuts him off by sighing, leaning against the door.

"No, I can't. I need to keep an eye on you. Besides, I like our little chats. Especially when you've mispracticed somehow."

"It won't happen again." The thing with Vadim, that wasn't a slap on the wrist.

She smiles. "That's what you used to say, too. If I had a kopek for every time you lied to my face...Except, of course, that there was none of his money in your account. It's been investigated. I know you didn't lie about that."

He tells himself he has nothing to be ashamed of but his face is still burning when she’s finished reprimanding him. "So do you want something now?"

The smile reforms into a smirk. "Come to my office, six o'clock."

"That's after hours."

"I know." She turns on her heel. "You have to make them up somehow."

 

There's no receptionist to take it out on that she's keeping him waiting. He repays the slight from earlier by going straight in, and her back's to him at the side cabinet. He hears the chink of decanters. Her jacket hangs on the back of the chair. It looks like she’s already got started.

"You shouldn't feel bad." She pours out a good measure of Stolichnaya on ice and passes him the glass. "He brought it on himself. You clearly couldn't control him, though I always thought you just weren't trying hard enough."

He toasts her sardonically and takes a seat at the desk, downing the drink. "Is this a fucking counselling session?"

She sits on the table in front of him and holds her hand out for the glass to refill it, making him raise an eyebrow. All Irina's more careless gestures demonstrate her power, daring him to make something of it. Needless to say he doesn't, but he holds onto the double shot when it's given back. She takes her own in quick succession.

"I know you can't talk to Anna about it. Perhaps you can talk to me. I'm here, if there's anything you need. If not, you have my condolences and I hope we can continue to work together."

Now he swallows the second vodka. Any other colleague offering their support, he'd give them a fake smile and accept it. But she looks like she really cares, which is enough to unsettle him. He's not sure what he feels for Irina despite interacting with her on an almost daily basis. There's at least six or seven years between them. She's risen through the department so fast.

He leans forward, narrowing his eyes. "What is it exactly that you think I might need?"

She suddenly stands up, over him, her crotch directly level with his face. He jumps, but it's too late, she took him by surprise with that. She moves a hand through his hair, pushing his head back. He makes a choked noise at the compromising position she put him in with such ease.

"Ilya." She says.

He utters, "Irina." Too shocked to move. He glances sideways at the bottle and wonders how much she's had, or why his own head is already starting to spin.

She moves her hips forward to draw his attention back and laughs, at his indignant grunt.

"You're gorgeous, do you know that? Even more so when you look like this. Lost and all hateful towards everyone. But I've always thought it, since my first day on the job and I saw you approved of me. The boss then was sexist and you rolled your eyes. You told me he was an asshole. You were good about it when he was finished and I got promoted over you, as well. But maybe you turned it down first. You could be so far ahead by now, I don't _understand_. It's beneath you, to be mixed up with criminals."

" _Irina._ God damn it." He strains his neck away. "What do you want?"

"Probably too much for you." She purrs, catching it, stroking her thumb over his throat. "But we'll see, shall we?"

He could spit that this is cliche, that he's not just going to roll over for her again. All he can actually say in response to that challenge is, "You're making a mistake. Think about your career. If it stops here I won't-"

"Won't what? Report this?" She snorts scornfully. "As if _you_ could do anything to _my_ career." Then more softly, "You don't have his protection anymore. They'll be onto you, if you even put a foot out of line. I'm the only one standing in between. Doesn't that mean anything?"

When she said she was thinking of him as well as the integrity of the department, he didn't really believe her. It makes more sense now, but what's to say someone didn't put her up to this.

"You don't have to concern yourself. I can handle my own affairs."

"Really, Colonel Fedorov? I suppose you can. But your position here is weaker than ever. Surely you must see that."

He swallows. "Didn't I do what you asked?"

She looks pleased with herself, for a second. He wonders how much she's enjoying this, and then she says, "You're fully aware it wasn't really me asking. They made me give you the deal because of our professional relationship. Ilya. I know you lost a friend."

He hangs his head, tells her something he hasn't even fully admitted to himself. "I expected I'd be dead as well by now. Maybe soon, who knows?"

Her thumb rubs his jaw, almost thoughtfully. "Look, I made sure you weren't exposed, okay?"

"I felt exposed." Standing there on the street, waiting, unarmed, not sure of what was coming, if he could warn Vadim in time without jeopardising himself. Turned out it was the fucking Godman boy, as if that wasn't humiliation enough.

She shakes her head. "No. You're safe because of what you did. Let me be here for you. Even if you should have seen it --"

"Oh, I saw it. None of you have any idea what loyalty means anymore."

She closes what's left of the space between them, hands in his hair again, brushing it back. "Doesn't it have something to do with love?"

"Please." He sneers. _Please, Irina_.

She looks around the room once, as if there is someone watching, then squeezes his shoulder. "Just do what I fucking tell you."

Their eyes search each other, and she must know he's thinking of telling her to go to hell. It's only his pride that's at stake this time, but he doesn't want to be seen to cave in without any resistance whatever. She understands, shakes her head slightly, and adds in a whisper,

"Like you're _supposed_ to, you know?"

 

Doing as he's told finds him lying on the table, belt skillfully undone, his trousers around his ankles. His underwear got stuck at the knees. Her hand is on his back, holding him in position, with the edge of the desk digging into his stomach. The other skims across his arse, right under the curve of his butt. His cock stirs, his face heats up, neck flushing.

"Is this okay?" She asks gently, in much the same tone she asked him if he was okay after being abducted by his own organisation. "All of it? None of it?"

He doesn't answer, mouth dried out. She laughs, and then she smacks him, hard.

He knew it was coming, still thinks she heard the hitch in his breath.

"Does that help you forget, feel less uncomfortable? Less like you care what I do to you? What you did to Vadim?"

Yeah, his mind went blank, in a way he'd needed all week, ever since he made the call to tell them where he was. All he saw was a red flash.

Irina clicks her tongue behind him. "You ready?"

There's another smack, harder. Fuck. His teeth cut into his lip. He's foolish enough to think she'll just take it slow like that, with the blows, warning him when, and then they start raining down on his posterior, his legs. Before long he's out of breath, tearful, and not managing to keep it silent by any means.

"Wait." He gasps, wanting one moment to collect himself, but she's not finished.

She just ignores him, grips his hair again, drags his head up. "Why should I? God I'd love to fuck you properly."

"What?"

"You know what I mean. Guess I'll just have to make do with this for now."

There's a second where he thinks she's unbuttoning her trousers and then she hefts herself slightly more on top of him, driving her hips back and forward.

"I mean it. At my place, if you're game." Huh. He always thought she had a boyfriend there, or a girlfriend, somebody...

"I don't..." And then her fingers touch his hole, with just enough pressure to make a surge go through his cock, saving him from saying anything, and there's absolutely no way he can stop it.

He lies there with his head on the desk while Irina rights herself, tugging on her suit. He's panting, lips bleeding, he kind of lost his mind during that.

"Is there come on my desk, for fuck’s sake?" She leans over him.

No, just his clothes, which is awful, but he doesn't see how that could have been avoided. He murmurs some negative sound. She allows him to turn around, sees the way he is and grins. She kisses him, pinned to the desk like an insect, drawing him tight against it with his arms up and making him groan at the soreness in his lower body, at her crotch rubbing on his, rubbing it in.

"Good. I’d hate for someone to have to clean that before my next meeting."

"You call this a meeting?"

She steps back and lets him go, though the next moment her fists are back in his lapels. "Listen, Ilya...I realise I haven't thanked you. For not holding out on me. It probably would have meant my job if you had.” She pauses, speaks more quietly. "I know I shouldn't put any one person above the department but I do, sometimes. With you."

He thought as much, although he wasn't sure till now. He shifts himself forward, kisses her wrist, wondering what's possessing him, and tells her he's going home.

 

A couple of weeks later, he's used to getting flattened against empty alcoves, and elevator walls, when there's only her left in there with him, her hands grasping around his elbows, the sleeves of her cashmere sweater pressing over his lower arms. Her being so close, the tip of her nose brushing his, her lips whispering obscenities into his ear.

He prises her hands off him, but he can't let go of them. He can only stare at her, helpless as he was in the interview room.

"You will make your excuses." She says. "Eventually. Tell her you're working late."

"That's what I said the last time." He hisses.

"Well, that was true. At least you weren't in jail."

"You can't blackmail me with that anymore." But he's saying it into her mouth, letting her work open his zip for like the tenth time. Until it occurs he's being too easy to handle and he tears himself away.

 

He waits by her car in the underground parking garage, his heart going about as loud as it was outside the safe house, hoping she'll be out quickly. He couldn't think of anything better to tell Anna, in the end. Irina leaves by a side door, fiddling with her phone. She smiles when she sees him. She lifts her key, the lights flash and the door locks open.

She stops to squeeze his hand, glancing around them before giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. "Get in."

 

 


End file.
